A prime example of Cro-Magnon misogyny at its best from trash punkers the Mentors. The late El Duce and his jizz-shooting sex-o-cutioners didn't exactly leave behind a literate legacy, considering most of their fartheaded songs were about defecation, pissing, blowing loads, donkey punching and wishful raping of chicks with their donned grand wizard hoods to preserve their sicko anonymities. However, they did have a niche, and not just because they were 2/3 fat men hiding behind cowls and appealing to the lowest common denominator with songs like "Service Me Or Be Smacked," "On the Rag" and "Secretary Hump." Stupid as they were, there was something nervously funny and occasionally rocking about the Mentors, so much if you had a soul at all, you looked down upon yourself for actually liking them.
I remember during the PMRC hubbub thinking, "Tipper, you clueless twit, if you're going to indict John Denver over 'Rocky Mountain High' you honestly don't have a clue, not when you're obtuse to a band like the Mentors who are your truest
nightmare!" Of course, Tipper at least stayed married to a man who won a Nobel Peace Prize and she hypocritcally jammed with the offspring of one of her condemned (being Frank Zappa), while the El Duce went to the grave growling stupidly about golden showers. Undoubtedly he and GG Allin are eating shitcakes together in the fucked-up closet room of the afterlife.
Amazing to say, but this album's fetching around $38-45.00 in the CD import market right now. Hell, You Axed For It
is actually grabbing $70.00! That's at least three handjobs in the same dirty alley the Mentors oozed out of...